


Glitter

by rchiveweus



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Contains swearing - Freeform, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Crack, M/M, angst? maybe, fuckboy! geonhak, lots of side ships, pastel! dongju, seoho is the root cause of all dongju's problems, spot them if u can, this work is han approved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28338936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rchiveweus/pseuds/rchiveweus
Summary: "You know how much I like you.""Ohfuck off."or; campus rivals, Dongju and Geonhak, get selected for their college's yearly "Dating Challenge" where they'll have to pretend-date for the rest of the semester.Their hatred runs deep, but both might seem to be falling for the other a little bit, and then more.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 14
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy guys, so i am finally, _finally_ back with this fic and i will def complete it this time. thanku for waiting, i hope you guys enjoy it <3

Dongju looks at himself in the mirror and lightly brushes his hair, contemplating about the next pastel shade he should go for. The soft baby blue he’d applied last time has already faded to a pale blonde.

He smiles at the memory; his last aesthetic _had_ been phenomenal.

His roommate, Hyungu, shuffles behind him , setting up various hair dye supplies on the small dresser. “Have you decided on a color yet?” he asks, already snapping on the gloves and positions himself behind the younger guy.

Dongju hums. “Cherry. Cherry pink this time.”

Hyungu looks at him through the mirror, probably imagining Dongju with pink hair and nods in approval, “Sounds nice.”

Dongju smiles and relaxes into the chair as Hyungu starts bleaching his hair, picking up strands and pushing them aside, sending a tickling sensation all over his scalp. He feels at ease today, knowing he’d already completed his most dreaded presentation yesterday after pulling an all-nighter. It’s like a huge weight lifted off his shoulders.

After Hyungu leaves for uni, Dongju once again surveys his brand new hair. They definitely go with his style. He fluffs them up, grabs his bag and heads out to college.

He feels today is a good day, but he soon finds himself retracting his statement when he sees Lee Seoho bounding up to him with a sickening grin atop his face. 

Whatever it is that makes Seoho grin so wide can _never_ be good for Dongju and he’s not ready for whatever crap Seoho is about to pull.

“DONGJU-AH!” he screams, “Guess what big day it is today?!”

Dongju blinks. “It’s... a wednesday?” he tries.

“No. I mean yes it’s a wednesday duh, but any special occasion?” he asks, practically bouncing on his toes.

“It’s a… uh, workaholic wednesday!” he tries again, wondering if it was one of Seoho’s silly jokes again. Seoho rolls his eyes at him. “You’re so lame,” he says and Dongju bites back a _’says you’_ in favor of ending this conversation as soon as possible.

“Today they announce the _chosen ones_ of the dating contest.”

_oh._

It’s that stupid contest they held every year to raise money for charity or something, where two _chosen ones_ are required to date for the latter half of the semester and honestly, Dongju thinks it’s like someone created a shittier version of _The Kissing Booth._

Dongju thinks it’s all very cliché and he’s not that desperate.

“I don't see what it's got to do with me, hyung. You know I'm not interested in that,” he says and turns around, voice laced with confusion.

“Stop being a closeted homo and learn to have a bit of fun, Dongju-ah” Seoho replies, rolling his eyes at him.

Dongju doesn’t like where this is going.

“Hyung, what did you do?” he asks anyway.

Seoho gives his shoulder a friendly pat which has Dongju almost choking on his spit but he manages. “I’ve already entered your name,” he reveals and flashes him a blinding smile, “You can thank me later!”

Dongju stutters to a halt, mouth hanging open as the reality of the words hit him. What?

“What?!” he echos his thoughts, whipping his head towards the older guy but finds himself falling forward, stumbling over someone’s feet.

See, here’s the thing. Dongju likes to believe that whatever happens, happens for a reason. It’s the way the universe works. What he _doesn’t_ understand, however, is _why_ his face is buried inside the chest of the very person he hates more than pineapples on pizza and he absolutely _loathes_ pineapples on pizza.

“I swear to God,” he hisses through gritted teeth even as his nose miserably registers how good the crook of Kim Geonhak’s neck smells. “Why do I have to see your trashy face this early in the morning?”

“Always so sweet, Dongju,” Geonhak sings loudly in that deep ass voice of his, loud enough so that every living creature within a one-kilometer radius stops moving because this is another episode of _Son Dongju And Kim Geonhak Meet Again: Who Will Win._ Because everyone knows about The Incident and their mutual rivalry. “I missed your pastel ass.”

Anyway, the birds stop chirping. The clouds stop moving. The campus simultaneously holds its breath and starts to gather around them in a wide circle, because this is as good as a TV show, after all.

“Well, I didn’t miss yours,” Dongju replies, and pushes himself off Geonhak a little too late, honestly because he catches sight of his helix earring and last night’s hickey, whoever the poor bastard was. “Now get out of the way, some of us have classes to attend.”

“Actually—” Keonhee’s loud voice booms from somewhere in the crowd and Dongju shoots his best death glare in said direction before he can even mention that Geonhak has taken a double major. (Man can't even be a _fuckboy properly_ ; a whole new level of uselessness.) “All right, I’m gonna go. Peace and light to all.”

“What I hate about you,” Dongju begins, turning back to Geonhak and shakes his head to get a pink bang out of his eye, “is not your stupid face, your cologne reminisant of a high-schooler hockey captain, or those ridiculously broad shoulders.”

“Go on, tell us how you really feel,” Geonhak grins brightly as someone— probably Seoho— starts up a low chant of _fight, fight, fight._

“No. What I absolutely _loathe_ about you, actually, is that you embody your high schooler aesthetic down to the very roots of it. Complete with juvenile acts of defiance, like tripping youngsters who have places to be, which I'm sure you think is hilarious.”

“I do, actually.” _Fight, fight, fight._ “But my favourite part was when you came flying into my arms like a Disney princess.”

And see, this is another thing Dongju hates about Geonhak. Sometimes he makes these statements where there is absolutely no way of making a comeback. Just, none. Geonhak has him. He can’t even deny that statement because that’s exactly the vibe he puts in his aesthetic.

So he scoffs instead, which gives him some time to think up a fitting retort as he wildly gathers his wits.

“Well, what does that make _you_ then?”he says, “A prince, that’s what.”

He only realises what left his mouth when it’s accompanied by muffled cheers and laughter around them. Dongju, in an effort to maintain his sarcastic front, struggles to keep an impassive expression and refuses to react to any of it. Except he feels his cheeks heating up, despite himself and purses his lips.

Great comeback, Dongju. Ten on ten. Semester’s off to a great start.

“I mean, I’m fine with that arrangement,” Geonhak says, steps back and shrugs his shoulders, then turns around and winks at someone in the crowd, who has a mobile phone out, probably recording this whole thing, as if he’s some rookie celebrity idol. 

“You know how much I like you,” he proclaims solemnly. The cheeky bastard.

“Oh, fuck off. I would rather snort sawdust.”

“You tell him, Dongju!”

“As if _fuck off_ is a real response. Get him, Geonhak!”

_Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight._

The corridor speakers blare to life. “GIRLS AND PALS, THE TIME HAS COME TO SELECT THE NEXT HOT COUPLE OF THE SEMESTER,” a voice screams into the microphone (thankfully) attracting everyone’s attention.

And then Dongju remembers that some son of a bastard had entered _his_ name for this very event.

“The _chosen ones _are required to date for the rest of the semester. All physical actions are to be verbally negotiated, even hand holding or hugging,” the voice continues, “And with that, we have our first chosen one… KIM GEONHAK!”__

__The crowd around them cheers as Geonhak does a little bow, girls and guys screaming in high pitched voices because he _is_ a fuckboy after all. Dongju sighs internally, pitying their lack of taste and turns to leave but someone holds him back. Seoho. If Dongju didn’t kill him tonight.**_ _

__“Congratulations,” the voice drones on, “Now for our second entry we have…”_ _

__The hallway goes eerily quiet. Then, the speaker crackles to life._ _

__“Son Dongju.”_ _

__For one agonising moment, everything stills. Then all hell breaks loose._ _

__“Oh my _God,_ ” someone screams from the left, maybe it’s Keonhee or worse, Dongmyeong. “Oh my God,” he says, whoever _he_ is, “This is _unbelievable!_ ”_ _

__Unbelievable. Definitely unbelievable, Dongju is just hoping to wake up from this awful nightmare as soon as possible. Geonhak is looking at him, a hint of a smirk on his lips and Dongju feels like throwing up._ _

__As always Seoho comes to his rescue (or doom, he can’t really decide) and claps his hands together, “Okay, I must admit this was a huge coincidence with a capital C and all but—” and now Dongju is really listening because Seoho’s voice has dropped an octave, meaning he’s up to some next level evil shit. “I can’t be the only one who finds this concept intriguing?” he asks, one eyebrow raised, “The concept of these two _dating?_ ”_ _

__“Right?” someone shouts and that’s definitely his darling brother, Dongmyeong who steps forward into the line of fire. “Like, we both know they hate each other—”_ _

__“I have an entire _Snapchat_ dedicated to them, actually,” someone else pipes up and Dongju swears he will kill that person once he finds out his identity._ _

__“Nice,” Seoho says, looking highly pleased with himself, “Well then, you guys just _have_ to give it a shot now.”_ _

__Dongju has never wanted to kill several men with such burning passion as now with Seoho and Geonhak currently competing for the first place. Geonhak, who still has that shit-eating grin plastered on top of his face and is looking towards Seoho and Dongmyeong._ _

__“I mean, I’m game,” he says, shrugging, “I don’t know if Princess Ariel here is up for the challenge, though.”_ _

__“Do _not_ call me that,” Dongju says with vehemence, then squares his shoulders. “And, shut up. I’m up for whatever fucking challenge it is against _him._ I mean, I sure do love a guaranteed victory.”_ _

__Geonhak laughs good-naturedly at that, which makes Dongju all the more homicidal and he _would_ have decked some kneecaps if not for Seoho’s shrill voice piercing through the chaos and everybody listens._ _

__“All right, it’s settled then,” he says, “One semester of dating, like actual dating and whoever breaks up first loses. Agreed?”_ _

__Dongju glares at Geonhak, who continues smiling like they’ve been friends since second grade._ _

__“Agreed,” Geonhak says._ _

__“Agreed,” Dongju growls._ _

____

♥

One semester— whoever gives in first loses. One semester of dating, not pretending to date for keeping up appearances but like actually _dating,_ as in going on dates. As in, movies, and bowling, and spending time together like civil people who are really _dating._

As in, the most ridiculous chain of events Dongju has ever participated in since his own birth and that one time he and Hyungu thought it would be funny to put a raw egg in the microwave.

 _Just make sure you both get out of this in one piece,_ Dongmyeong’s voice rings inside his brain. That sounds doable enough for Dongju, though he can’t say the same about Geonhak. But then, maybe he shouldn’t be so cocky lest he be the one having trouble to come out in one piece.

“Bullshit,” he mutters under his breath, then swears as a bit of his skin gets caught in his binder clip. “ _Fuck_ Geonhak,” as if he is the reason why Dongju is nursing a swollen forefinger. Which is probably true, because as soon as he manages to reduce the pain, his phone buzzes. It’s Seoho, no hello, nothing: just one phone number. Dongju didn’t think he was capable of disliking a couple of _digits_ before, but this day keeps surprising him.

Not a minute later, his phone buzzes again.

>   
>  **Unknown**  
>  ANNNNEOYEOOOOONGGGG DONGJO  
>  dongju*  
>  this is boyfie-kun !!
> 
> **Me**  
>  fuck off, boyfie-kun
> 
> **Unknown**  
>  what already? :(  
>  be a sport♡  
> 

One semester— whoever breaks up first, loses. It’s a challenge. And specifically, it’s a challenge against Kim Geonhak.

All of this is a big fucking game and Dongju is ready to play, and _win._

♥

As Dongju watches his precious nail paint splatter all over the hardwood table, he is overcome with a sense of immense longing to grab someone by the neck and choke the living daylights out of them. That was his _favorite_ shade, the baby blue one.

His phone buzzes with a text.

>   
>  **Fuckboy, do not answer**  
>  helloooooooo  
>  how are you today??  
>  let’s grab dinner together, i know a place ;)
> 
> **Me**  
>  yeah, whatever  
>  it better be good  
> 

It’s been forty-eight hours since they last saw each other and Dongju would have been perfectly fine with not seeing the other ever again. But now he’s got a _date_ with _the Kim Geonhak,_ simply because he (purposely) tripped him at campus on a bright, sunny wednesday.

Then again, maybe if The Incident hadn’t taken place, _none_ of this would be happening in the first place. They, possibly, wouldn’t even have hated each. But then, life is an abyss of unending darkness so he’ll just take his best shot and go get some fucking dinner.

♥

They are sitting inside a family restaurant. A fucking _family_ restaurant which is packed with people and filled with screaming children. And if that wasn’t enough he showed with flowers at his doorstep. _Flowers._

He made sure to throw them in the trash as soon as he went inside to retrieve his wallet as Dongmyeong tried not to die from containing his laughter. When Dongju glared at him, he threw him a thumbs-up mouthing ‘good luck’. Dongju threw him the bird and stormed out.

“The charm of this place is probably that enormous fish tank they have put up in there,” Geonhak says, as he slides into the seat across from Dongju and runs a hand through his hair. At least the guy was considerate enough to get them a corner booth. “Pretty sure I saw a catfish once.”

Dongju stares at him, all sunny and breezy at the same time and finds himself thinking _he’s such a fuckboy._ An _unfathomable_ fuckboy with a blinding smile which he flashes at him far too often considering he hates Dongju’s guts.

“So,” he starts, “You like Italian?”

“I hate Italian,” Dongju replies, deadpanned.

“Sweet.”

♥

They turn off their phone after the thirteenth collective text from either Seoho, or Dongmyeong, or Keonhee, or whoever. Maybe Hwanwoong, even, if he’s not banging Youngjo is someone’s closet (hopefully, not his). Point is, there are only so many _send pics_ or _are you ded?_ messages one can take before it’s all too much. And they _did_ take pictures, of the food, of that fish tank, and of Geonhak’s wrist watch lying next to one of Dongju’s pastel bracelets for proof that they were together.

Dongju can only appreciate the details of this because much later, when they're done saying awkward goodbyes and fucking off to their respective apartments, he starts getting like notifications for a photo he doesn't recall uploading.

Geonhak has tagged him in a post and Dongju squints down at the partially blurry and hastily taken picture, but still clear enough. It’s accompanied with about a dozen hashtags and he immediately gives up after reading #firstdate.

There’s a comment from Youngjo, _man you miss one week of uni and the entire world changes._

♥

Going back to class is a _living nightmare._

The first thing Dongju hears when he steps inside the classroom is Seoho’s very loud and acutely annoying voice. “ —flowers, he showed up with like a _huge_ bunch of them, it was _hilarious_ —” he stops, finally noticing Dongju.

“Oh look, the man of the hour is here,” he grins, completely unfazed by the death glare Dongju is currently throwing his way. It _is_ a pain, having a highly publicised enmity with the most-loved fuckboy of the campus. If Geonhak hadn’t been such a _popular_ fuckboy, Dongju could’ve lived his pastel life in peace, but no. 

“I hate everything,” he responds, “So be quiet and respectful.”

“You always hate everything,” Seoho retaliates, enjoying every bit of this drama which is the equivalent of a _hellpit_ for Dongju. “Class, don’t we all wanna know how their big date went?”

“We do,” the audience choruses, and Dongju flips them all the bird then retracts when he notices the classroom door opening slightly (Seoho does not).

“Come on, Dongju tell us about the _lovely_ time you spent—”

“Lee Seoho,” their professor booms, startling Seoho so violently that he drops one of the many highlighters he was carrying. “I’m sure all of you are very curious about each others’ personal lives but chem class is not the best place to discuss these questions.”

Someone shouts, “Be gay, do crimes!” from the third row and Dongju laughs nonstop until lunch break.

♥

For their second ‘date’, they really do go to the movies and Dongju struggles to understand why he’s so offended by it. It’s too _simple,_ he decides finally. It’s like two normal guys going on a very normal date, which for some reason gets on his nerves. Because nothing about this whole situation is _normal._

So he sits here, fuming in his seat and purposely ignores the movie which is playing on the screen not because it isn’t interesting (it is _very_ interesting, actually) but because he and Geonhak had one mother of a fight over which movie to pick.

Dongju wanted to watch the latest Disney release, Geonhak wanted the action thriller based on whatever trash Dan Brown wrote last.

They ended up flipping the coin and to Dongju’s _absolute_ horror, Geonhak won the round. He made Dongju pay for the tickets and bought _three_ huge-ass buttered popcorn and he can feel him reaching out and stuffing popcorn in his mouth every two minutes, the occasional _crunch, crunch_ too loud to Dongju’s ears.

He feels like punching something; something that closely resembles Geonhak’s face.

“Did you see that?” Geonhak nudges him and Dongju looks up, letting out a loud sigh. “The ropes had been broken this entire time.”

“Fascinating,” Dongju replies drily.

Geonhak’s hand stops mid-way while getting more popcorn and glares at him, “You’re not even watching,” he hisses, voice low, pissed. “At least make an effort.”

“Well I never _wanted_ to watch this movie,” Dongju hisses back.

“But I won fair and square. We literally flipped the coin.”

“Whatever.”

“No, _not_ whatever,” he says and stands up, holding out his hand, “Come on.”

Dongju looks around at the other spectators who are staring at the pair in mild confusion and feels himself burning up with embarrassment. “What are you doing? Sit down, and stop making a scene,” he hisses from his seat.

“I’m not. I will though if you don’t get your ass off that chair and come with me.”

 _God, so fucking infuriating._ Dongju huffs and gets up, pointedly ignoring the outstretched hand and makes his way out, offering hushed apologies as he shuffles past the seated onlookers.

Outside, the sun is too bright and the afternoon air too dry for his liking.

“What the fuck was that about?” he directs his question at Geonhak, who stumbles into the street after him. “I paid for those tickets.”

“Yes, and you’re gonna pay for another set because we are going right back in, and _this_ time we’re watching something we both like,” Geonhak states flatly, while putting on his shades.

Dongju blinks at him. He looks all golden and pissed off and great in the sunlight, which is way too many things for anyone to process at a given moment, let alone on a date with one’s greatest enemy. No, Dongju’s blinking because Geonhak has a point, one which didn’t occur to them forty minutes ago and now they’re both standing outside looking like sun-kissed idiots.

“Well,” Dongju says, “Yeah, sure. I guess.”

♥

They end up choosing a _Spiderman_ rerun. Both refuse to cry when Emma Stone dies on screen, but Geonhak fakes four sneezes in a row when they leave, talking some bullshit about dust allergies.

Dongju smirks up at the evening sky and sends a text to Seoho. _Sap confirmed._

♥

By the time they’re done with their _third_ date; they stop calling it that. Simply because they both realize that this challenge is going to be much less about individual dates and so, it was just termed as a mutually accepted routine of sorts, or a way of living. A mindset.

Dongju looks around himself, hands playing with the cap of his glittery ballpoint pen and spots his roommate and his boyfriend, Yonghoon, cuddled on the couch. Seoho is trying to read a comic upside down, and Hwanwoong and Youngjo are missing from the scene, as expected.

>   
>  **Worst Nightmare**  
>  hey, hey heyyy  
>  i’ll see u at 10!
> 
> **Me**  
>  sigh  
> 

Kim Geonhak is, for lack of a better term, a fuckboy. It's a complete package. He has this _just long enough to be unmanageable_ category of platinum blue (or puke green) hair, constantly wears those sleeveless shirts which has Dongju an unmistakable view of those massive guns, is a terrible drinker but drinks anyway, and somehow performs all of this while undertaking a double major. Simply put, he's a fuckboy.

Which is undoubtedly the reason why Dongju is sitting here, in a sports arena, watching a _football_ game.

 _“Yes, smash that ball inside the net!”_ someone screams from beside him and Dongju startles, blinking furiously to shake the sleep off his eyes. Seoho has both his hands in the air, holding a hugeass banner with their university’s logo on it and waving it over his head.

“Who scored?” Dongju asks, stifling a yawn.

“Harin,” Seoho replies and points at a well-built figure jogging across the field. Dongju squints down, watching him high-five Geonhak and another player in quick succession.

“He’s so _hot._ ”

Seoho snorts. “He’s super dense as well, given the amount of hints your brother has been dropping,” and Dongju nearly chokes. Count on Seoho to know everyone’s gossip.

With a sigh, he turns his attention back to the game thinking about how much this whole thing looks like those shitty teen-american sitcoms complete with a football game and the cheerleader, only difference being that Dongju is _not_ going to cheer for Geonhak even if his life depended on it.

Dongju doesn’t want to go into _10 Things I Hate About You_ and he won’t, because there are definitely more than 10 things he hates about Kim Geonhak, and that, more importantly, annoy him. And so anything even _close_ to a normal friendship is out of the question; fuck’s sake, look at his _hair,_ and that massive _rolex watch,_ and that general sunny _attitude._

Sometime around halfway through the match, Dongju zones out and only comes back to reality when he’s shaken awake by a thoroughly excited Seoho screaming, _’we won’_ along with the cheers rising across the stadium.

“Come on, your _boyfriend_ is waiting for you,” he says, not forgetting to emphasise the _’boyfriend’_ and drags a very reluctant Dongju down the stands where the team is now celebrating their victory.

As soon as Geonhak notices him, he flashes him a grin and waves. Dongju just shoots him a death glare in response.

“Heyyy!” he greets them as Seoho throws him a high-five. “We won!”

“Congratulations,” Dongju replies, which honestly sounds much more sarcastic than he intended but if Geonhak catches it, he pays no mind to it. His hair is damp from sweat, some strands sticking to his forehead and he pushes them back roughly, biceps flexing at the movement and— 

“Dongju?”

Dongju looks up, startled and blinks a few times. Geonhak is looking at him with a confused expression, “Are you okay?” he asks.

They are in the sports arena, everyone is _watching,_ and this is his enemy-slash-boyfriend standing in front of him. To put it simply, Dongju panics and says the first thing that comes to his brain.

“You fucking _stink,_ ” he blurts out and only realises how pathetic it sounded when he hears a chocking laugh from somewhere behind him. Well, if he wasn’t panicking before, he definitely is now and Dongju is not stupid enough to keep standing in this abominable place to watch the drama unfold. So, he gives Geonhak one last glare and bolts out from the scene as fast as possible. 

_Fuck Geonhak, _he thinks as he pushes inside his house, gasping for air. _And fuck this stupid dating challenge.___

__His roommate looks up from the book he’d been reading. “Hot chocolate?” Hyungu asks._ _

___”Please,”_ he replies._ _

____

♥

Dongju often wonders why life is like this.

“Shut the _fuck_ up,” he snaps in the general direction where he presumes Seoho has been blaring out _’Let it go’_ on the karaoke machine for the past forty minutes. “I’m trying to _study_ here.”

“And what’s new in that?” Hwanwoong calls out from the couch, utterly immersed in his Nintendo switch.

Dongju throws him the classic pastel flavoured glare and returns to his notes, eyebrows knitted in concentration and partly annoyance as he tries to decipher what the _fuck_ he meant by ‘17.22 note if problem’. Note if _what_ problem? What even is 17.22? Why has life not once stopped being an abyss of unending darkness and eternal hell? Why is he—

>   
>  **Worst Nightmare**  
>  heyyyyy dongjuuu  
> 

— _dating Kim Geonhak._

Seoho, definitely Seoho’s fault.

But then, is that even mildly surprising considering nine out of ten times it’s always Seoho’s fault behind all of Dongju’s (and many others’) problems. Even ‘The Incident’ was technically _his_ fault.

Dongju sighs. When you’ve had Lee Seoho as your neighbour for the entirety of your college career so far, things like these may seem like common occurrences. He’s surprised the man hasn’t accidentally triggered the apocalypse yet.

‘The Incident’ is something which is known only by the most intimate of their friends, the cause of the rivalry between him and Geonhak. That is to say, Seoho was the one to find out, and then informed Dongmyeong and Hwanwoong about it,cry-howling with laughter throughout it all. Youngjo kind of inherited the knowledge, being Hwanwoong’s boyfriend and all. They've somehow done a _splendid_ job of keeping it to themselves; not one other person on campus is aware of the details, not even Keonhee, a fact that he howls with rage at least once a week.

>   
>  **Worst Nightmare**  
>  just wanted to say that tbt pic on your insta reminded me of that party  
>  didn’t keonhee throw up on the wall??!
> 
> **Me**  
>  no concrete memory of that  
>  probably due to the tequila
> 
> **Worst Nightmare**  
>  i remember that now  
>  u found out out that i think tequila smells nice so poured an entire bottle over my head  
>  i still hate you for that, just saying!  
>  ur the meanest goth ass bitch on this planet
> 
> **Me**  
>  yeah i hate you too  
>  also my gig is pastel, not goth  
>  not that i expected anything better from u
> 
> **Worst NIghtmare**  
>  hahaha fuck off  
>  doesn’t change the fact ur petty as shit  
>  break up already, this has gone too far
> 
> **Me**  
>  you’ll have to pry this relationship from my cold, dead hands  
>  fuckboy 
> 
> **Worst Nightmare**  
>  ooh that give me tingles when u call me that  
> 

It's a couple of weeks into the first month back to school, and Dongju is now back to being neck-deep in work. A typical September, save for the fact that he's dating Kim Geonhak. As Dongju sets aside his books, getting ready for the next class, he has the strangest impulse to laugh. And not in a bitter way; it’s just really funny.

He can clearly picture Geonhak sprawled out of his bed, surrounded by pending laundry and some kind of EDM playing in the background. Phone held over his head, ready to fall over his face any instant. Giggly texter, for sure.

Dongju suddenly gains awareness of what he is doing, and clears his throat, looks around to make sure no one caught him smiling at his phone.

>   
>  **Me**  
>  shut up, when are we meeting  
>  considering u only text me when u plan something
> 
> **Worst Nightmare**  
>  ...tru, gonna change that starting tomorrow  
>  anyways, i was thinking ice-cream?  
>  looks good on insta too
> 
> **Me**  
>  sure  
>  i like ice-cream )
> 
> **Worst Nightmare**  
>  HALF A SMILEYYYY!!!
> 
> **Me**  
>  shut up. that was a typo  
> 

♥

Geonhak looks different. Or maybe it’s just the fading sunlight reflecting on his face and giving it an ethereal glow. But it’s not just that, Dongju notices while trying to peek subtle glances at the other guy because he can’t obviously _stare_ at him openly like that. Like okay, he’s brushed back his hair which exposes his forehead and it looks _very_ sexy. That was an objective observation.

But there’s something else. Dongju is not sure what. Is it the fact that for once Geonhak is wearing something other than a simple, white tee? Is he overdressed for an ice-cream date?

No, it’s not that either. Dongju studies his frame, taking in his appearance. A black turtleneck, ripped jeans, converse highs for footwear and that hugeass rolex watch which clinks against the hardwood table ever so often as he scrolls through his phone.

He looks… happy, or at least as happy one can get on a date with their mortal enemy, and it bugs Dongju for some weird reason. Because Dongju isn’t really used to seeing Geonhak be positive, not around him, despite all the fake cheer he maintains in order to poke fun at Dongju.

No, Geonhak looks… excited. For something. Well, not exactly excited, just… 

“Are you…” Dongju squints at him, not caring that his ice-cream has started to melt a little, “Are you in a _good mood_ by any chance?”

Geonhak stiffens for a second, then turns around and smiles sheepishly at him and it’s not a sardonic grin either; just a genuine smile.

“I mean,” he says, “Yeah? Honestly I’ve gotten past the whole _’rival’_ thing. Don’t get me wrong, I still very much hate you—”

“Thanks,” Dongju replies, deadpanned and delicately scoops up his ice-cream and stuffs it into his mouth. “I don’t like you either.”

“ — but” Geonhak continues, as if the interruption never happened, “I don’t see why the two of us can’t be civil and enjoy the ice-cream.”

Geonhak flashes him one of those smiles, the kind where his eyes disappear into little crescents, “I’m in a good mood. Are you?”

“Well, if I was, it’s gone out of the window now that I’ve seen your stupid face.”

“Does that mean you were enjoying this before?”

“Fuck off, Geonhak. Really.”

“Okay, okay,” Geonhak says, “I’ll chill out. But it’s sad if only one of us is feeling the ice-cream.”

“Yeah, well.” Dongju stares at the numerous rings on his fingers, one bracelet that’s slowly getting frayed. “No fixing that.”

“Yes fixing that. I'm going to Keonhee’s party after this. Do you want to come with me?”

For the umpteenth time since this whole jig has started, Dongju finds himself blinking at Geonhak, blank for a moment. He even forgets to comment on how Geonhak is currently wiping his hands on his jeans, which given _any_ other circumstances, would have Dongju scrunching his nose in disgust.

Instead, he stares at Geonhak, completely at a loss for words. The question, in itself, is pretty simple— it’s just, it’s so straightforward.

“For real?” Dongju says. “I mean, I don’t know? I’m sure it’ll be filled with good sportsmen like you. You sure your pastel boyfriend—” _why the fuck did you say boyfriend, Dongju_ “ —won’t embarrass you?” 

If Geonhak thinks the _boyfriend_ is unusual (or mildly life-shattering as it is for Dongju) he pays no attention to it. “Don’t be like that. You look good, I always like your outfits.”

Dongju blinks again, while Geonhak scrolls through his phone, completely oblivious to the effect his bullshit is having on the world around Dongju. _You look good, I always like your outfits._ The worst part is, as always, that Dongju knows he isn’t lying. He would never.

"Well" he replies faintly, after a pause, "Sure, why not. What have I got to lose right?"

Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are appreciated ^^
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/rchiveweus)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm going to Keonhee’s party after this. Do you want to come with me?”
> 
> "Well" he replies faintly, after a pause, "Sure, why not. What have I got to lose right?"
> 
> Right.

Well, this was a big fucking mistake.

First things first; Dongju’s enjoying. Dongju is, in fact, enjoying the _fuck_ out of himself. The kind of enjoying that only comes when you enter those magical student apartments that are so fucking tiny but still manage to contain a shit ton of people. The kind of enjoyment which only comes when you have to squeeze your way through, trying not to inhale the disgusting smell of sweat and beer, and are spotted by Lee Seoho who stumbles over with not one, not two but _three_ bottles of rum in his hands and the rest is history. That kind of fun.

To be fair, it starts before that. It starts with Keonhee opening the door and immediately trying to push Geonhak back out, to Geonhak’s unending laughter. It starts with Geonhak shouldering his way in anyway, Dongju in tow. It starts, before that, with Dongju actually taking Geonhak’s outstretched hand, _for the first time._

Then it’s just Geonhak entering the thrum of the party, instantly gaining everyone’s attention once they realise who he’s with, and then it’s Geonhak swearing at all of them laughingly as he pulls Dongju to his side.

“Meet the boyfriend,” he says, and there’s not even a hitch in his voice; and then Lee Seoho lets out a crow-shriek, stumbling towards them with three bottles of rum in his hands and the rest is history.

The worst fucking mistake part of it all was that _just_ as he was about to get comfortable on the couch, with a beer in one hand and his mobile in the other while pretending to be near invisible, Kim Geonhak takes of his shirt.

“What,” Dongju says to no one in particular, blinking owlishly at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. (The couch is empty; the fact that people do like to dance at parties will never fail to shock him, he thought it was all fictional shit.)

In over two years of blissfully hating Kim Geonhak, he has _never_ had to experience _this._

And Geonhak is _toned._ He has known about him being somewhat of a gym freak, but this; _this_ he hadn’t seen coming _at all._ And now he gets to see Geonhak flexing his biceps and his broad, bare shoulders moving reflexively as he stretches both arms above his head, and the sweat running down his spine.

Dongju is, to put it mildly, reconsidering life.

“What,” he says again, and this time someone’s listening. It’s Keonhee, who honestly knew what the fuck was up when he tried to kick Geonhak out of his apartment before he even stepped in. He sits down on the armrest, and ruffles up his hair. 

“Why is he doing that,” but his voice comes out a little hoarse, throat suddenly dry.

Keonhee snorts, finishing whatever infernal drink he has in his hands, “What, have you really not seen Geonhak at parties before?”

“I have,” Dongju says. “But it’s usually for like, thirty seconds. Then I disappear off to the least inhabited space existing inside the apartment and stay there for the rest of the night. I kind of hate him, remember.”

“ _Really_ nice of you to remind me that I might be the only person on this planet who doesn’t know about _’The Incident’_ ” he responds hotly and strides off, muttering furiously to himself.

“Your welcome,” Dongju calls after him, but honestly, he couldn’t give two fucks about it. As it is, he is rendered incapable of forming complete, coherent sentences because _holy shit,_ that is actually a fucking _belly button_ piercing on Geonhak’s _naked_ fucking torso, so his fuck budget is pretty low.

He brings up the presumably beer filled plastic cup to his mouth, only to realise that it’s empty which is _not good._ Definitely not good at all because Geonhak is now tying that perfectly good shirt around his _very sharp_ hipbones and Dongju can see all to painfully how well his jeans hug his ass. Definitely not good when he suddenly goes in on the drop of a song with one snap of those sharp hips and Dongju suddenly remembers two things; one, that hickey he'd seen when he tripped into Geonhak's arms on the first day back, and two, that Kim Geonhak is actually, impeccably, upsettingly hot.

“I need a drink.”

“Oh sweetie,” it’s Jieun, who ruffles up his hair again. Dongju doesn’t even remember what color it’s dyed today and nor does he recall when and for how long has Jieun been watching him suffer. “You need a _whole bunch_ of drinks.”

♥

He loudly blames it on his state of inebriation to whoever is willing to listen later, but clause number four of the Instagram update rule says _no takebacks, no deletes._

Hence, his upload, clumsily made at three in the morning, stays up for everyone to see. A blurry, drunk video of Geonhak with his hands over his head, body twisting to match some addictive beat in the background, some resigned lyrics about innocence and infidelity.

The caption says _not so bad._ But it is. It is very much bad. So so bad.

♥

>   
>  **Me**  
>  oh my god, oh no  
>  they’re gonna do it  
>  oh no
> 
> **Fuckboy Ultimatum**  
>  really??!?  
>  right in front of everyone’s salad are u sure
> 
> **Me**  
>  hwanwoong is looking at youngjo like he wants to eat him like a 3-course meal, i have never been wrong
> 
> **Fuckboy Ultimatum**  
>  ok too graphic, backspace  
>  but really?? In the fucking cafeteria??
> 
> **Me**  
>  trying to take blackmail worthy pics  
>  will send  
> 

Dongju thinks that if people could die from too much sex, Hwanoong and Youngjo would be the first to leave this world.

That being said, it’s literally impossible for anyone to not gauge the _sexual tension_ growing inside a whole and very public cafeteria as Hwanwoong nibbles off the noodle end that Youngjo is currently feeding him.

 _Disgusting,_ Dongju thinks darkly, all too familiar with the events that are highly likely proceed this weird make-out session and tries to edit the levels on his sneaky photos so Geonhak can appreciate just how _abominable_ this whole situation is.

>   
>  **Fuckboy Ultimatum**  
>  oh my god that is disgusting  
>  it’s like watching some weird amateur public porn or something ew
> 
> **Me**  
>  right??  
>  anyway we still good for 7 or
> 
> **Fuckboy Ultimatum**  
>  yea!!!  
>  wait no 7:30 please  
>  i have to do a sheet mask
> 
> **Me**  
>  wow you take care of your skin  
>  i like sheet masks
> 
> **Fuckboy Ultimate**  
>  i have a whole routine bitch lmao  
>  we should do them together sometime
> 
> **Me**  
>  romantic  
> 

♥

Monday comes and Dongju finds himself totally surrounded by work, finishing up assignments till three in the morning with hardly any sleep, and literally living off coffee.

Midterms are approaching, but at this point, Dongju is so used to internalising all sorts of information and memorising what he can’t seem to understand perfectly, that exams just seem like part of the routine.

At any rate, it's been almost two and a half months into this challenge when Dongju comes to a realization. He realises that they’re almost nearing a sort of halfway point, in a week or so, and that the two of them have comfortably settled into something that can almost be considered camaraderie; and in that they have a mutual enemy: their laughing friends who still haven’t gotten used to this new arrangement and constantly put them on Snapchat whenever they find Dongju and Geonhak sitting at the same bench without tearing each other’s hair out or whatever juvenile actions others think they get up to every time they see each other. (Which, it’s been over two years. You’d think the campus has understood that their altercations are strictly verbal, smirking on Geonhak’s part and scoffing on Dongju’s, as if they’re some teen anime protagonists or something, and that no, their supposed “unresolved sexual tension” is never going to culminate into passionate kissing in front of a wide-eyed audience because this is not a TV show, or a sports anime.)

It’s almost camaraderie; yeah. It’s like, Dongju has come to accept that there _are_ some few selected good things existing about Geonhak as well. He can acknowledge that Geonhak is a fun guy (with others), that he’s actually pretty sweet (with others) and that he’s just ridiculously all-round hot. (that one’s universal.)

But he’s also respectful and honest, which is the quickest way to earn Dongju’s respect in return. Never mind the fact that he’s currently struggling to think up a way to make Geonhak break up— a challenge is a challenge after all—- he sometimes finds himself wondering, sometimes, what will happen if they manage to finish the semester without breaking up. Will they throw a party? Go back to rolling their eyes at each other? Or pretend that this whole challenge never happened, and nor ‘The Incident’?

“Earth to Dongju,” he hears, and blinks, instantly snapping out of his thoughts. Dongmyeong is leaning over his desk, and he realises that most of the exam hall is empty now. “Get your shit together, this was just the second paper. You have like, four more this week. And a report.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dongju mutters, rolls his eyes. They both know he’s going to ace all of them (well, not sure about the report) but old habits die hard, he supposes. He flashes his brother a trademark grin and gathers his things, casually walking towards the exit as he replies to Keonhee’s fourth selfie of the day.

Camaraderie sounds about right. They don’t so much go on dates anymore as they just hang out, with the obligatory Instagram updates every week; a park once, revision style noodles another time, the movies, again. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit that there aren’t many things to hate about Geonhak when they actually have a civilised conversation together, and vice versa, but that age-old annoyance is too deeply-rooted and hence latches onto Geonhak’s entire aura instead of any specific actions of his. Geonhak’s words aren’t annoying anymore, but his voice still is. His cheer isn’t annoying; his smile is.

Most of all, it’s annoying that Dongju somehow manages to like it anyway. His smile, that is.  
“I don’t have time for this,” he says to Dongmyeong out of context, and he makes a sound of agreement. “Myeong, I need you to hit me with a frying pan about something.”

“I’ll hit you with a frying pan even without a reason, don’t worry.”

♥

Dongju sips his raspberry milkshake while sneakily watching his roommate, Hyungu tying his shoelaces by their apartment door with a backpack containing a water bottle and some fiction, or novels laying by his side.

“Hey, hyung how about I accompany you to this book club— ”

“No.”

“But— “

“No.”

“I _do_ like to read books sometimes too, you know,” Dongju tries again.

“Absolutely not.”

Dongju huffs. This is ridiculous; he doesn’t understand why this particular hyung is so unaffected by his charms. His phone buzzes with a text.

>   
>  **Fuckboy Max**  
>  hellooo?!???  
>  where are youuuuu  
>  i’ve been waiting for the past 48 secs  
>  im boredddd  
> 

He looks up from the text, catching Hyungu’s eyes as he’s just stepping over the threshold and tries to channel his inner puppy eyes and throws it with full force at the older guy. Hyungu blinks once, then shuts the door behind him.

♥

“Shut up,” Dongju says, with real passion.

“Make me,” Geonhak replies, a crooked grin making one of his eyes close narrower than the other. The last of the fall sunlight is vehement on his face, a slat of pure gold hitting the bridge of his nose, his lashes, his eyes themselves. They look almost amber in its light, and if Dongju wasn’t filled with utmost rage he’d be filled with something else. Admiration, he doesn’t know. “You know I’m more right than you can ever hope to be.”

Dongju takes a deep breath and looks around himself in an effort to calm down. The campus is in a state of typical Saturday calm, only a handful of people lying on the grass, someone with a guitar, a group of girls playing football in the distance. If their friends are still being as silly about the challenge as ever, the rest of the student body seems to have accepted the new status quo; everyone ignores the fact that they’ve been sitting— and arguing— under a bare tree for the past two hours. He has been very thoroughly and none too gently reminded of why this is supposed to be a challenge; he’s a thread’s length away from calling the whole thing off.

He leans forward and glares at Geonhak with as much fury as he can muster, which is clearly not enough, because Geonhak continues smiling.

“Raspberry is clearly the superior berry,” he says, for the third time this afternoon. “Have you ever eaten something as small and power packed? That taste? You really think strawberries compare?”

“Just give it up, Dongju,” Geonhak replies, leaning back against the tree trunk and throwing a bare arm over his eyes (which, how the fuck is he still wearing tanks in this weather; Dongju pulled out the hoodies a week ago). “Strawberries are cheaper, sweeter, and bigger. There’s just no discussion here.”

“Your dick is— you know what,” Dongju says, catching himself before he calls Geonhak’s dick sweet and big, words that he would really rather not utter. “You know what, I don’t need to do this. This whole affair is below me.”

Geonhak cracks an eye open, raises an eyebrow. “You breaking up? Is this it? Can I record?”

“Shut up. I’m talking about the argument. You _wish_ I was breaking up with you.”

“I really do,” Geonhak grins. “I think you’re stubborn and scornful.”

“And _I_ think you’re obnoxious and insufferable, but you don’t see me providing that information free of charge to you at every available opportunity.”

“You just did. Does that mean I have to pay now?”

Dongju splutters at him for a second, then simply gets to his feet as Geonhak lets out a loud, triumphant laugh; high and stupid. He just really doesn’t have the time for this.

“No, come back,” Geonhak wheezes, even as Dongju stalks off to the edge of the lawn where it meets the concrete. “Come back, let’s bitch about something together! Dongju! Boyfie-kun!”  
“Fuck you,” Dongju calls over his shoulder, but then realises he left his phone on the grass.

Cursing himself, seven generations of ancestors and at least three generations of descendants, he turns back to face Geonhak, who is holding up that very phone and almost speechless with laughter.

“Come on,” he says again, coughs on air.

Dongju narrows his eyes at him. Solid build, easy grace, stupid handsome face.

“Blueberries,” Dongju says. “I hate blueberries.”

Geonhak points at him solemnly. “Score. So do I. Come back. Let’s talk about blueberries.”

♥

Blueberries are a common enemy. They talk nineteen to the dozen until the sun goes down, and when they’re getting up, brushing yellowed grass off their elbows, Dongju comes to a realisation.

He realises what’s strange: it’s that at some point it stopped being him versus Geonhak, and became them versus the challenge.

He turns to face Geonhak quickly, as if he expects Geonhak to be in on this at the same time as him, but of course, Geonhak is just shaking his hair out and stretching, face lit strangely in the multicoloured glow of streetside shops.

Dongju swallows his unimportant realisation and turns back to face the road ahead. His bracelets rustle as he tucks a curl behind his ear, and suddenly there’s a gentle hold at the tip of his fingers.

“Cute nailpaint,” Geonhak says, and he’s not even fucking around. “It’s all glitter. Twinkle, twinkle.”

“Twinkle, twinkle,” Dongju repeats, and forgets to tack on the derisive laugh that would come along.

♥

"Come on," Hwanwoong says as he inspects his hair in the mirror and throws Hyungu a thumbs-up before fixing his glare on Dongju. "Midterms are over. It's been two months. Just get over it and go to the party."

"The party isn't my problem, besides it’s a _fest_ " Dongju says, "It's just— the whole college is probably gonna be there; I’m not good with crowds. It's like, that's like—"

“Like your boyfriend is an economics major—slash—partly freak? And that he also asked you to be his date for the fest?” Hwanwoong asks, raising an eyebrow, “Not to mention, your brother’s gay little band is also performing, and Dongmyeong will very much expect your presence.”

"When you phrase it like that, the whole idea really sounds dreadful," Dongju says darkly.

Hwanwoong sighs, then leans forward and fixes him with an earnest gaze, “I think it’s time for you to turn a new leaf. Go and show _him_ how much of a sport you are.”

♥

The minute he steps inside the club, Dongju spots his brother on the dance floor grinding his ass against that same well-built senior guy who’s part of the football team. Harin, he supposes his name was.

He turns around and heads straight towards where the drinks are kept, without bothering to even acknowledge the fact that he has a twin brother. He needs alcohol, lots of alcohol to make it through this night.

The club is packed with people of all kinds and the music is loud and at some point Seoho handed him his drink when he took off to the dance floor with Keonhee. There’s only one person he hasn’t spotted amidst this mayhem. 

Suddenly feeling annoyed, Dongju stoically downs what’s left of Seoho’s drink and grimaces as the bitter taste of alcohol hits him. 

“What the fuck is this thing even,” he mutters as he sits down on a empty barstool, about to ask for a more decent drink when he feels a presence next to him and whips around quickly, only to find Geonhak seated on the adjacent barstool.

The first thing that Dongju notices is that his shirt is still on; the second thing he notices is that he’s staring at him, staring and _smiling._

“Hi,” he says, voice deep and too sexy and Dongju feels like he’s falling, falling, falling _hard._

He stutters out a greeting, almost instinctively reaching out for more alcohol and Geonhak is still staring at him, brown orbs twinkling in the lights.

Geonhak looks absolutely stunning. His caramel blonde hair has been parted from the middle to reveal his forehead, and shines under the glittering club lights, some strands coming loose and falling over his eyes and Dongju has to physically stop himself from pushing them back.

“So,” Dongju starts, playing with one of the many rings on his fingers, “Midterms were good?”

“Fantastic,” Geonhak replies, a little breathless and Dongju realises that he’s probably way past drunk already. “I don’t need to ask about yours, right?”

“Yeah, well my intellectual capacity is definitely higher than—”

“Oh, let’s not,” he cuts in, and Dongju looks up, fast, puzzled. It’s not sarcastic or anything; Geonhak seems genuine, eyes light, curve of his mouth entreating, almost. “Let’s just have a good time, Dongju? Can I get you a drink?”

Dongju blinks at him, at the diamonds in his eyes and finds himself fidgeting with one of the bracelets on his wrists.

"Actually," he says. "Do you want to." _Come on,Dongju._ "Dance. Maybe?" 

There's no reply for a long time, so Dongju looks up and notices that Geonhak's staring at him. Openly, with something surely on his mind that Dongju can’t see, and one rebellious strand of hair comes loose falling in front of his face, tickling the elder's nose. Almost against his will, Dongju reaches out to brush it back but stops his hand just in time.

Geonhak ignores him, pushes his hair back, seemingly coming back to himself. He blinks rapidly and then smiles at Dongju, friendly, frank. 

“Sure,” he says. “Come on, happy feet. Let’s go.”

♥

Geonhak leads him all the way to what must be the center part of the club, the disco-floor already occupied with passionate dancers. The music is much louder here, with the speakers barely able to keep up with the volume, but no one is in a state to mind.

He briefly wonders about what kind of reaction his brother and rest would have if he saw him right now, but for the moment he concentrates on not losing Geonhak in the tangle of people in the dark. Then again Geonhak isn't easy to lose; right now, he might as well be a personal beacon for Dongju, who’s now confused about how he’d been missing out on this all along.

Geonhak stops and spins around all of a sudden, and Dongju nearly bumps into him, startled. He does catch an inhale of pure alcohol and Geonhak's high-schooler cologne, but backs up quickly and catches himself.

Then Geonhak holds out a hand, palm up and steady. "Can I?" 

Dongju wonders if anyone’s watching; whether he’ll mind if they see them together, dancing inside a club. It’s all a part of the game, after all; and he is kicking _ass_ at this challenge. He knew he’d hold out, and now he’s gonna _dance_ with the enemy to boot. None of that explains why he feels like he’s about to pass out, but he shrugs it off.

He gives himself a firm nod as he lifts a hand and places it into Geonhak's. _This is a challenge,_ he tells himself. _And I'm a great fucking sport._

Apparently, giving his hand to Geonhak is the equivalent of handing over all his life: the moment their skin touches, Geonhak clasps his fingers tight and positively yanks Dongju forward, so hard that their chests nearly bump together. Dongju lets out a startled yelp and throws his other hand to avoid clashing and gasps at the warmness that seeps through Geonhak's skin, despite his shirt.

But before he can say or even think anything else, Geonhak's guiding his hands; looping Dongju's arms around his neck, resting his own hands on Dongju's waist.

The alcohol hits him without warning and the first dance is a blur. He doesn't know how to dance and never will but Geonhak's got enough rhythm for both of them. And he lets himself be whirled around by Geonhak throughout the second dance as well, all the while giggling uncontrollably and something which he can only describe as _pure joy_ rushes in, fills the space between them with something that is pulsing, alive, and full of youth. Geonhak shoots up his mind like pins and needles travelling up his arm, his presence filling up every inch of Dongju's universe with fireworks and confetti and his eyes close on their own accord when Geonhak's lands on the curve of his waist, pulling him closer. As if on cue, the music drops to something slow and almost romantic when Geonhak lifts up a hand and brushes his thumb across Dongju's cheek, his touch soft and lilting, almost as if he's asking.

"Can I kiss you, boyfie-kun?" he whispers and Dongju flutters his eyes open, to look right into mister fuckboy’s; his messy apartment, his giggly texts, the fact that his very being makes Dongju's blood boil and a giggle escapes past his mouth against his will, before he nods. 

As soon as their lips connect, Dongju feels as if the world comes to a sudden stop, and raises his hand to grab Geonhak's stupid blonde hair; lets his fingers curl as tight around the soft strands as they can, loosing himself to the intensity of the kiss. Geonhak's lips are tender yet blazing and taste of a fatal mix of spirits, and Dongju can’t remember the last time a kiss was so good.

Then there's an ear-splitting scream from somewhere and Dongju vaguely makes out someone’s silhouette pointing towards them from the crowd as he laughs drunkenly into Geonhak's mouth as the person; Seoho? Dongmyeong? Keonhee? yells; _it's happening._ It is a challenge after all, one they're both killing. What a way to not break up with each other; dancing and kissing and dancing and kissing like it's all part of a game. And fuck it, he's fun, with Dongju. And Dongju’s fun with him.

It's all so easy, too easy and so he doesn’t think twice and pulls Geonhak down by his collar again, with that same swooping song going on and on and on like this night will never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are appreciated ^^
> 
> [twt](twitter.com/rchiveweus)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a quality romantic ending.

They’re standing inside a gaming arcade, and by _they_ Dongju means him, Geonhak, Youngjo and Hwanwoong. 

They said it was going to be a double date, that it would be _fun_ but as soon as they’d entered the arcade, the pair had abandoned the two of them and disappeared off somewhere around the photobooth corner. 

“So,” Geonhak starts, after idly standing for barely three minutes and Dongju heaves a sigh, trying to summon his inner peace. “You think they’ll come back?”

“Absolutely not,” he replies, still not able to believe that he got ditched like that.

“Well,” another tentative attempt. “Do you wanna play some games, or plan to stand like a statue for the rest of the evening?”

Dongju considers this. There’s no use trying to find Youngjo or Hwanwoong; it’s better to pretend that they just don’t exist and that it leaves the two of them, him and Geonhak, alone inside the gaming arcade. On a date. 

“Sure, sounds fun.”

“Great, I _really_ wanna beat you at Mario Kart,” Geonhak teases with that silly smirk plastered over his face and Dongju mentally cracks his knuckles.

“You _wish,_ loser. Bring it on!”

They keep playing until the sun goes down, shuffling between the different games and machines, laughter bouncing off the walls. Geonhak laughs when Dongju accidentally breaks one of the machine controls while trying to make his bike move faster. Dongju laughs when Geonhak sends the air hockey puck flying two tables across, startling a teenage couple who were about to kiss.

Dongju hates to admit it, but it is so fun, so much fun.

“Leave it, Geonhak.” Dongju leans against the glass surface, a lollipop in his mouth and watches another failed attempt at catching plushies. “You _totally_ suck at this.”

Geonhak grunts something in response, eyebrows knitted in concentration and inserts another coin into the machine.

The instrument whirs to life, buzzing and creaking as Geonhak plays with the little toy handle, maneuvering the pick-up hook towards the plushies and drops it. Dongju was most certain that Geonhak would surely miss again but by some miracle one plushy gets stuck inside the hook, all the way to the side and drops into the box.

Geonhak is fucking esctatic. He reaches inside the flap and proudly displays the pink plushy with the most stupid grin on his face.

"For you," he says, and shoves it towards Dongju, who startles but holds it anyway. It's a bunny.

"It's a bunny," he repeats, giving voice to his thoughts.

“Yeah, looks like you,” he shrugs but there’s a strange twinkle in his eyes. 

To the people passing by, Son Dongju may seem very calm and composed on the outside but there’s quite a storm raging inside his mind right now.

_Geonhak thinks he looks like a bunny._

“If you think you can bribe me into breaking up first, you are very wrong,” he says instead, hands clutching the plushy and stares at the other guy suspiciously.

Geonhak lets out a drawn out groan, “Aww man, swear I almost dumped out before coming here. Last resort shit.”

“Should’ve done it fucker. Give up already.”

“Says the dude who kissed me.”

Dongju chokes on his spit a little at that (it’s not cute at all, but he’s glad he managed to do it discreetly) and stares at anything which is _not_ Kim Geonhak’s face, ignoring the heat crawling across his face and the sides of his neck.

The ease with which Geonhak lets that slip up is— well, it's really fucking _annoying_ and also has Dongju's heartbeat skyrocketing for some dumb reason at the same time. And he knows it’s part of game, it’s just he— well he doesn’t really know what the fuck he was expecting really.

But, does it make it worse of he _wanted_ Geonhak to take it lightly all this while, or if some part of him secretly wishes that Geonhak had taken it more seriously than him? Or— as seriously as him?

Dongju _hasn’t_ taken it seriously, though, which is the whole point. There’s nothing wrong with kissing someone, even if they are your highly publicized arch-enemy and Dongju is really not the type to overthink these things.

“You kissed me first,” he retorts eloquently, a reply which Geonhak deems valid after brief consideration. “Also, shut up.”

It’s just a challenge, a stupid dating challenge.

♥

Fall gets colder and colder, the leaves turning a little red before they fall off from the branches and Dongju has to switch most of his outfits for warmer alternatives. Even Geonhak begrudgingly accepts that the temperatures aren’t rising anytime soon and shoves on a single bomber jacket which propels his hotness to astronomical level Dongju can’t even fathom. His obnoxious form of protecting his ears is switching out his air pods for headphones, which is actually a little genius.

But they get along. They never kiss again, but the fact that they show up to parties together, and go bowling and ice skating and watch movies that _both_ of them hate, is somehow more radical than anything else could've been. Dongju _likes_ Geonhak, and Geonhak likes him too. It doesn't mean a single thing in the big picture, because come December one of them is going to win this challenge and they'll remain friends, he knows they will, and maybe joke about how they used to hate each other. But they get along, and that's actually fucking mindblowing when he stops to think about it carefully.

And the point is, you won’t find the campus exploding behind them whenever they do so much as _hold hands_ in the corridor or find them buying food for each other in the cafeteria, meaning everyone is more or less used to their bullshit now and it's kinda concerning how little time it took them to accept their new status as a couple that Dongju finds himself wondering if it'd have been this easy had they really been dating.

However the fuck that would've happened.

But it's the little things that make Dongju wonder, like how Geonhak always compliments his choice of nail stickers or the way Dongju finds his nose scrunch cute.

Still, it's a good thing that they never kiss again, until they almost do and everything comes crashing down.

♥

“Are you _sure_ about this?” Dongju asks, only for the fifth time this evening which he thinks is pretty considerate of him. After all, this isn’t just anything— this is his precious _nails_ they’re talking about. “I’m just not convinced about your qualifications.”

“Fuck off,” Geonhak laughs, and well, he already has all the supplies within his reach so Dongju supposes there isn’t much to do except give in to his fate. “I’ll have you know I’m the best nail art stylist in town, just you wait.”

“Pretty sure there isn’t a thing called _nail art stylist_ but go off, I guess.”

Geonhak just rolls his eyes at that, going back to assembling the various nail stickers and gloss paint on the hardwood floor. Dongju takes a deep breath. It’s fine, he tells himself, how bad could it go. Like, he’s already trimmed and manicured his nails so there’s no way Geonhak can actually fuck up that part. But then again— “You know, I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself.”

“Dongju, just shut up,” Geonhak says. “Let me be a good boyfriend.”

And Dongju does, something he finds himself doing more so often, something close to a way of life now. But he thinks that maybe some part of him will never stop processing this over and over, reframing and rephrasing and reiterating that Geonhak is very much a part of his daily life now, and it brings him— well, not joy, exactly. Just. It’s pleasant.

Right.

“Can I?” it’s Geonhak. (and after all, they still haven't stopped asking for permissions.)

The first touch of Geonhak’s fingertips brushing across his own, as he lifts them to an approachable height, is startling. Dongju can feel the warmth seeping through his cold skin and he sucks in a shaky breath. It’s just— it’s been a long time that someone else did his nails, and as ridiculous as it sounds, it feels strangely important and intimate.

The color he’s going for is emerald and jade, the green jewels, and top it off with a brush of glitter. A shade to counter the winter chill. Geonhak’s the one who had insisted upon the glitter, saying something about the magnificence of an ornament is the courtesy of its sparkle and all sorts of things Dongju had eye-rolled away until Geonhak simply said, _it will look gorgeous on you._ (Then, Dongju had agreed, blushing violently and flipping his dumbass boyfriend the bird for good measure.) 

So he closes his eyes, knowing he won’t dare to open them again, and lets Geonhak do the work. Tries to keep still as Geonhak tenderly applies polish on his nails, feeling the coolness spread through the edges but every little touch sends sparks across his fingers. Geonhak works in utter silence, focusing on the job without a word.

And Dongju, for his part keeps his eyes closed and takes in everything through his other senses. The sounds of the brush dipping inside the polish, the glass bottle shifting against the wooden surface and the touch of Geonhak’s fingertips, so soft and careful and slow, as if he’s still afraid to touch Dongju, as if that night both never happened and happened too much.

It feels important. Intimate.

Weird.

Weird, as Geonhak paints his nails, sprays glitter on them. Weird, as Dongju belligerently keeps his eyes shut, refusing to give in to the moment. Weird, as after what feels like a century, Geonhak’s hand slows to a stop and lets go of his fingers. 

Weird, when Dongju finally opens his eyes and looks right into those twinkling eyes, staring back at him, when he realises that Geonhak is in his apartment and in his bedroom and painting his nails and being his boyfriend and being nowhere near as despicable as Dongju wishes he was and— and— staring at Dongju with that same look in his eyes that he had on that one night, when he was too drunk to pretend he hadn’t lost this game a long, long time ago.

Dongju thinks about kissing him, then thinks better of it and wills himself to move when there’s a gentle touch on his cheek and Dongju looks up and finds a pair of hooded eyes staring back at him.

“You’re getting polish on my skin, asshat,” Dongju says, but it comes out weak and he wishes that he just hadn’t said anything at all.

“Can I kiss you?” Geonhak asks, voice low and Dongju nearly chokes despite the fact he saw it coming. “Outside the challenge.”

And, no. He didn’t see _that_ coming. It was always supposed to be part of the challenge; all for the game, win at all costs and shut everyone up. Shut Geonhak up. Shut himself up. He never considered the possibility of an _outside the challenge,_ then why did his heart already start racing the moment Geonhak asked? Why does it matter?

And he wants to ask, voice his thoughts but Geonhak takes his hand away, leaving a smudge of shiny, green polish on Dongju’s cheekbone.

“Do you need time to consider it?” he asks, quiet, and Dongju sees— not red; orange.

In that instant, everything that annoys him about Geonhak comes rushing in, everything that infuriates him most of all; this _mellowness_ about him, this easy understanding of his; it’s almost more condescending than anything Dongju could achieve with his sarcasm. It’s always like Geonhak’s one step ahead, patiently waiting for Dongju to catch up, going _aww_ and _let’s not_ and God knows what else, as if he’s the one pulling the strings in this game and all Dongju can do is keep up.

Well, Dongju’s not here for that. Dongju’s here to win. And he, for once, wants to take the initiative.

“I don’t need time,” he says coldly. “There’s no _outside the challenge._ The only reason we’re both here is the challenge, or have you forgotten that?”

Geonhak’s face closes off; Dongju’s bitterly satisfied. “Right. Of course. I’m sorry.” 

And that’s it. Geonhak says nothing more, and he doesn’t look angry or even hurt, just… accepting. Dongju doesn’t know what to make of that, and he’s suddenly aware of the fact that he’s sitting here with his hands hanging off his knees in an attempt to dry the paint, looking like an A-grade idiot for rejecting the handsomest guy in this universe. The contrast is suddenly too much.

_As if this could have ever worked out, _he argues with himself, even as he feels a twinge of pain inside his chest. It was irrational of Geonhak to ask something like that, as if there could have been a happy future for them, just like that, without asking Dongju his opinion.__

___But he did,_ a tiny voice nags inside his head, _what are you doing, dongju__ _

__Only what’s best to win the game, that’s what he’s doing. Only what’s best to win the game. Because that’s all it is._ _

__And it’s all he’s good at._ _

____

♥

It is, of course, only in the middle of the night two days later when he wakes up in bed with a sickening start that doesn't move his body but leaves an ache in his shoulders, that Dongju realises that he, too, lost the game a long fucking time ago.

>   
>  **Me**  
>  i fucked up
> 
> **Myeong**  
>  yeah, no shit  
> 

♥

It’s kind of hilarious to watch how fast the surroundings turn back to normal, as if nothing was wrong in the first place. The stupid fucking challenge has lost enough of its weight that nobody on campus— apart from their closest friends— seem to notice or care that the two of them are suddenly not hanging out as much anymore. Or maybe they just presumed that him and Geonhak shifted to a low--maintenance arrangement, or finally stopped getting along at all and are waiting to see who cracks first.

It’s as if the world has been hit by a raging storm and dead emptiness at the same time. And after all, it would look like a weird fucked up version of the boy who cried wolf to go around informing everyone that this time they _really_ hate hate each— but that would be admitting that everything up till now was just some kind of silly joke gone too far. Lying awake in the fairy light glow of his bedroom every night as he has been since he went and screwed everything up, Dongju’s been forced to acknowledge the fact that _The Incident,_ no matter how much they dramatised it, was just that— an incident. One stupid fucking incident which snowballed into a faux enmity which neither of them know what do do with, until shit suddenly got real. Now gone are text messages, the _boyfie-kun_ and the cheerful jabs they threw whenever they used to run into each other at campus— in fact, it seems as if Geonhak’s made sure that they never bump into each other ever again.

If this is a romantic comedy, it’s not a quality one. Dongju’s pretty sure you’re not supposed to feel like your own fingers got caught in the shredder you were trying to put someone else’s heart through. Actually, he’s pretty sure romantic comedies don’t entail putting someone’s heart through a shredder in the first place.

“I really, _really_ fucked it up,” he says, then breaks into a coughing fit as his dramatic dialogue makes some of the juice go down the wrong way. _”FUCK.”_

“Impressive,” Seoho says. “Yes you did, but there’s not much you can do other than apologise, or forget about it.”

“I can’t do either of those. If I apologise now, he’ll throw me off his balcony.”

“You know, contrary to what you believe, Geonhak’s actually a sweetheart. Also, he doesn’t have a balcony.”

Dongju laughs a little hysterically. “Oh, _believe me,_ you don’t need to tell me that. But I don’t _like_ Geonhak, remember?”

Right. He might have lost the game. But he doesn’t like Geonhak, never will. Geonhak is annoying and snarky and really fucking edgy, and he was none of those things when Dongju practically told him to fuck off but now, well.

Well it’s too late to like Geonhak, now. He doesn’t have the right anymore.

“I don’t even like him…” he repeats, fainter this time.

♥

Then Geonhak shows up to a party with a dark look in his eyes and three hickeys on his neck and Dongju sees red this time. Proper red.

Oh, and it’s not a violent red. Nothing like _i hate him with burning passion_ kind or anything. Just, red and Dongju is perfectly aware of how ridiculous it sounds but it’s exactly what it is. It’s hardly the time to indulge into metaphors but he never realised that if he describes life with mild colors, Geonhak is that one, vibrant shade who found its way into his universe somehow. But he doesn’t really know, he doesn’t think.

He doesn’t know what it is, actually, because his brain is short-circuiting. It’s another one of those old gatherings, the first one Dongju managed to pep-talk himself into attending, and it has that strange cosy winter feeling to it, the kind where everything just blends together into nothing. He’s using this opportunity to sink into the couch, caramel latte in one hand and unending solitude for company this saturday evening.

It’s probably _because_ of how cosy and relaxed the party is that Geonhak looks so out of place when he steps inside. Bomber jacket with such a bright shade of white that it hurts to look at, headphones still on, nose blushing pink from the cold outside, thick-soled shoes in that same bright white. It’s the only Dongju even notices him; he enters so quietly that no one greets him except the girl who opens the door.

No, no one really notices Geonhak despite how brightly he’s shining. Dongju’s the only one who can’t seem to take his eyes off his tired figure, or how his eyes are constantly gazing the ground below or the tight set of jaws. He’s the only one who can’t look away, following his movements from the front door to the haphazard pile of coats and scarfs where he shrugs, a bit hesitant, before deciding to keep the jacket on. He’s the only one who watches him fill out half a glass vodka, the strange working of his throat and how his muscles tense as he shoots down the alcohol. (And then, maybe Geonhak’s the only one who notices Dongju, petered out and sleepy as he is; it’s like he’s actually aware of where Dongju is and is doing his best to avoid his gaze.)

It’s such a fucking picture of a youthful angst that it feels like a parody of itself; then why does Dongju feel like utter shit right now?

Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, the answer presents itself to him when Geonhak raises an arm to fist-bump Youngjo half-heartedly. The action shifts the shoulders and collar of his bomber, and all of a sudden the dimmed-down lights of the room are too bright; they’re doing a really horribly good job of drawing his attention to the golden skin of Geonhak’s neck, and the small series of bruises that lines it.

Yeah, well then.

Fuck.

 _Maybe he ran into a door,_ Dongju thinks wildly, even as his brain puts two and two together to perfectly understand that those are hickeys, and that Geonhak at least made out, if not slept, with another person. Somewhere in the back of mind, his brain reminds him, with some sadistic glee, of the last time he’d made fun of the _same_ situation and pitied the person who’d have to put up with Geonhak in a sexual context. If Dongmyeong was here, he’d have made some bullshit joke about how the tables have turned and whatever other TV-sitcom references that Dongju only half-gets, but he’s not here because he’s pissed at Dongju, as he rightfully should be, because Dongju’s been an idiot.

Dongju’s been such an idiot, and now he’s sitting here on this couch under four hundred scarfs with a mug of coffee in his hand, simply _boiling_ with jealousy.

“Hey”’ The voice is so low that Dongju almost doesn’t hear it, but when he looks up Hwanwoong is looking at him, surprisingly cheerful, eyes twinkling and cheeks ruddy. Probably the cider. “You look upset.”

“I’m not,” Dongju lies blatantly. “He can fuck whoever he wants. No clauses about cheating.”

“Sure,” Hwanwoong replies, chill, easy. Leans over the back of the couch and presses an obnoxious, smacking kiss to Dongju’s cheek. “Don’t be too upset. He was just really drunk and sad.”

“Never a good reason to fuck around, but that’s none of my business.”

“He’s kind of in love with you.”

Dongju tries to scoff at that, but the sound doesn’t come out right; there’s something blocking his throat. He’s pretty sure he just caught a fucking cold. Fantastic. Ignoring his alarming immune system issues, Hwanwoong grunts and vaults over the back of the couch, lands perfectly on the mountain of scarves beside Dongju.

“Think about it from his side,” he continues. “In the best case, you shot him down because you value a challenge more than him. In the medium case, you don’t even like him back. In the worst case, you shot him down because you value a fucking centipede more than him.”

“Way to make me sound like a major dick.” Wow, those fucking viruses act fast. There’s already this niggling itch in his throat. “Anyway, you don’t need to guilt trip me. I’m perfectly aware of what I’ve done. I’m just going to live with it now.”

“You don’t have to, though? There’s something called talking. You should try it sometime.”

“Whatever, Woong. Don’t you have some salsa moves to try on Youngjo?”

Dongju wants to— sneeze, probably. His nose is itching too much and his eyes have started stinging; and it’s like, every single thing on this planet sounds much easier than it is. It’s just— its too much, all of it, and he wants to undo everything. Maybe even go back two years and decide not to playfully hate Geonhak this time, tell his younger self that it’s not worth it. None of it is, because Dongju has a headache and cold now, but Geonhak looks like he’s been sick for days, and if talking was so fucking easy Dongju would have told him a month ago that he’s never been in love like this before. He’s just— never been in love like this before, with someone so warm and bright and shining, so full of goodwill that he couldn’t even interpret it correctly, twisted into condescension.

If talking had been so fucking easy, he would have said all of it on that one night when they were both dancing under the twinkling lights, when Geonhak was smiling so wide that you could barely see his eyes. If talking was so fucking easy, he’d at least have said it to himself, if not Geonhak. The least Dongju could’ve done, actually, is admit it to himself.

♥

The party seems to go on forever, and not in a good way. Dongju nurses the same mug for the entire night, not slumping anymore but curled into one corner of the couch, trying to make himself as small as possible. As small as he feels. Eventually, Hwanwoong _does_ go off to try his newly-learned salsa moves on Youngjo, and everybody seemingly forgets all about Dongju, just as they’ve forgotten about Geonhak. Not a single comment on why they’re not talking to each other nor demanding any updates from them about the challenge. It’s a stinging reminder of how inconsequential this all would’ve been if they hadn’t slipped so deep into it, a thought that nags him again and again and again.

Everyone kinda forgets about them, so the two of them have to make up for it as well. Geonhak sticks to the wall and doesn’t dance for a single song, and Dongju’s surprised he hasn’t left already. That one of them hasn’t left already, but then their presence is magnetic to the other. He’s frustrated— at himself, at Geonhak, at this dumbass christmas party in the first week of december, at the upcoming finals and at Dongmyeong’s half-hearted texts and at Seoho for starting it all.

The party drags on. At somewhere around two, when Geonhak gets up to leave, Dongju unthinkingly follows.

♥

It’s numbingly cold outside and Dongju can physically feel the tips of his fingers turning blue as he hurries to wrap his mittens around his face.

If Geonhak’s aware that Dongju is following him— which he has to be— he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t show it and keeps walking, the white of his clothes catching all the midnight lights, gleaming in the dark. Dongju stops for a moment to just, stare at the glowing figure then shakes himself and picks up his pace.

“Hey,” he calls out, his voice sounds weak and pathetic against the winter wind but it somehow reaches the other. “Uh, Geonhak.”

Geonhak comes to a slow stop, but doesn’t turn around and waits for Dongju to catch up behind him. Doesn’t even lift up his head and then, Dongju’s own gaze is trained towards the ground too, the glistening remains of the rain and the reflection of the streetlight, Geonhak’s ridiculous shoes, his own boots, their two pairs of feet.

“What’s up,” Geonhak asks quietly, then.

“Uh,” Dongju replies. _Fuck._ “Nothing special. How’s uh, finals prep? All good?”

“Yep, turned in my last report this morning.”

“Good stuff. Good stuff.”

One of the streetlights seem more yellower than the rest, at least that’s what it looks like from the reflection in the gravel. But maybe if Dongju fucking lifts his head up, he might be able to tell for real. Baby steps, baby steps.

“Listen,” he says when he can’t take the painfully awkward silence anymore. “About the challenge—”

“Oh, right,” Geonhak cuts in, a little too cheerfully. “I wanted to text you about that, actually. I quit.”

_wait, what?_

“Wait, what?”

At that, Geonhak turns to face him properly and Dongju figures he owes it to him to do the same. Nothing could really prepare him for the amount of exhaustion in Geonhak’s eyes but then, he brought this upon himself. And there’s nothing he can really do except for, well— _talking,_ but this is not how he’d expected it to go.

“I quit,” Geonhak repeats, crystal clear. “I don’t mind. We can announce it tomorrow, at the campus, whichever way you want. You win.”

“But—” and Dongju feels like he’s quite literally spluttering. “That’s not what I meant, I was—” 

“That’s what you want, right?” his voice is only a slightest bit colder now, but enough to chill Dongju to the bone. “You said it yourself. But what _I_ want is to stop playing this game, and i think that should be taken into account as well.”

“... of-course,” Dongju says. _come on, say something more you stupid bastard. don’t give up just like that, this isn’t a win. _“I just— you don’t need to quit. We can officially call if off, none of it was that serious anyway—”__

__“It must be for you,” Geonhak interrupts in, and his throat is visibly working up now but all Dongju can think when he looks at his face is _fuckboy, boyfie-kun, guy i’m in love with._ “I mean, I thought we had something there, and you basically slamdunked me into the trash over it, so.”_ _

___I thought we had something there._ Actually, Dongju knows exactly what kind of romantic comedy this is. It’s some made for TV-show bullshit, with half-assed plotline and cliched dialogues, one of Keonhee’s beloved dramas, actually. The winter even completes the picture; the overly romanticised dramatic ending and Dongju could almost hear some melody playing in the background._ _

__But the thing is, he doesn’t know how it ends. Doesn’t know how it’s _supposed_ to end, never thought of it. And the worst part is that Geonhak is nowhere near the stereotyped caricature of the fuckboy he so wished him to be. Geonhak is intelligent and caring, and— and that he’s a real person; not a cartoon character, nor the antagonist in this drama. _ _

__And if Dongju could trade whatever this is for a boring, non-existent love life, he would do it in a heartbeat._ _

__But he can’t, so here they are, and he doesn’t know what to say._ _

__“Never mind,” Geonhak says, then, and pulls his jacket tighter, zips it up. “I have to go now, but I’ll text Seoho tomorrow. Goodnight, Dongju.”_ _

__And before Dongju can even figure out what to say, he’s walking away._ _

____

♥

Dongju spends two minutes; looks at the water at his feet and the clouds in the sky and the streetlight which _is_ yellower than the rest, and then he yells _wait a minute, fuckboy_ and takes off after Geonhak.

To sum up all his feelings of dread and uncertainty and maybe even, anticipation; _This is either going to be really fucking disastrous, or this is going to be really fucking fantastic._

Well then, guess he’s just going to take his chance tonight.

♥

“I’m sorry,” Geonhak says, and he sounds like he’s genuinely in shock. “Did you call me fuckboy? Again?”

“I mean, you’re saying that as if i’ll ever stop calling you a fuckboy,” Dongju pants, utterly out of breath from having sprinted, what, fifty meters approximately. “It’s my whole thing, remember? Refuse to acknowledge your hotness _or_ your intelligence.”

Geonhak blinks at him, then rolls his eyes. “Look Dongju, I don’t have time for this. What do you want?”

“I want to apologise,” he replies just like that, simple and straightforward. Honest. And for a second, he surprises even himself at how easy it was and how he feels as if some heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders. But most of all, at how surprised Geonhak looks. “I want to apologise, for my behaviour two weeks ago. I was a dick, I freaked out and said some insensitive stuff and I know that I can’t take it back, but I can add context.” 

Geonhak takes a long moment to recover, which Dongju’s kind of grateful for because that way he can take one too without admitting it. Then he crosses his arms over his chest— they strain even against the bomber’s sleeves; Dongju’d kind of forgotten how trainwreck gorgeous Geonhak is up close— and raises an eyebrow.

“And what’s the context?”

Dongju clears his throat, licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “The context is that— look, I’m kind of an asshole. I just, there’s no two ways about it. I say some shit out of impulse, it’s just— that’s what I do, and it gets worse if i like someone and really, really, _really_ like you—”

“Wait,” Geonhak says, “Sorry to interrupt but all those time you told me to fuck off was actually you telling me _not_ to fuck off?”

“No? Yes, i guess,” he’s completely babbling now and it’s probably because of how fucking frustrated he is. Put it that way, it _does_ sound like a really stupid thing to do. Insulting the person whom you have a crush on, that is. “I mean— look the thing is, I get panicky when I like someone and like, give me a second here, out of all the people it had to be _you._ Like, you literally broke into my—”

“Sorry to interrupt again—” he says, not sounding sorry at all, “ — but I didn’t think tsundres actually existed.”

“Well, they do,” Dongju snaps. “You’re looking at one.” And well, calling himself a tsundere was really not how he was expecting this to go but everything is too tangled up into itself to make or think right. “Look— I’m sorry. I really am. I was confused, and angry at you for _not_ being confused, and took it the wrong way. And i know i can’t really fix it, but you don’t have to quit. I’ll back off from the challenge, you can tell everyone you won. And just—”

He takes in a long breath, despite the cold.

“Just,” he continues thickly. “I’m sorry. For this, and The Incident. Just, everything. And I’m sorry that we won’t remain friends after this, and i’ll just go now.”

Okay, one step forward, two steps back. He can’t stand the thought of sticking around and waiting for Geonhak to process his apology and then quote unquote _slamdunk him into the trash,_ so it’s better if he just turns around right now, leave the scene and walk right back into whoever’s apartment he came out from. Actually, he was already turning around when he said the last bit because, as stupid as it is but he really _does not_ want Geonhak to see how close he is to crying.

It’s bitterly hilarious. They’ve hated each other for two years with real passion and were then forced into a get along T-shirt for a few months and honestly, Dongju expected better from himself. He can’t believe he got up and fell in love with _Kim Geonhak_ of all people, but then he can, of course he can. it’s the sort of thing he does. 

He’s going to miss Geonhak. His infectious laugh, his kind eyes and his little nose scrunches— 

“Wait! Boyfie-kun!”

Dongju actually keeps walking for a whole five seconds before he realises that Geonhak’s calling out to him, at which point he comes to an abrupt halt, heart thudding, eyes wide. What, what now.

He turns around slowly, internally dreading whatever’s about to come but only catches a flash of white before he’s practically lifted off the ground and up into someone’s strong arms, and then he finally realises that Geonhak is lifting him in the air in the middle of the street and squeezing him tight. The lights are spinning, the clouds a whir and that this is happening, but he doesn’t know what’s actually happening.

“Oh my God, you’re so _light,_ ” Geonhak says, once he finally lowers Dongju, who has to blink roughly twenty five times to clear his eyes. “Everyone says I put in more effort than needed—”

“WHAT,” Dongju wheezes, “ARE YOU DOING.”

Geonhak lowers him to the ground completely and then _grins_ at him, so bright and shining that his eyes disappear into little crescents. “I lifted you without permission because I’m actually a lot slower than you think, and it took me a whole five minutes before i realised that you said you like me—”

“I don’t like you,” Dongju says automatically. “That is the whole _point._ ”

“I really dislike you too!” Geonhak replies, filled with pure glee. “And i forgive you. And i really, really want to be with you, outside the challenge. But no more movie dates because i can’t stand your taste.”

Dongju’s heart is out of control. He’s pretty sure no one can actually understand the words coming out of his mouth right but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care about the numbing cold or his chapped lips because this is real, that Geonhak is handsome and smiling and _his_ in this moment.

“I need a notebook, if we’re discussing regulations,” Dongju says, but he has the biggest smile on his face. “And at least ask if I want to be with you too, asshat.” 

“Right.” Geonhak pulls a comically straight face and stands to attention, purses his lips to control his laughter. “Boyfie-kun, will you please be my real boyfie-kun?”

“Shut up,” Dongju says, unflinching, silly and positively giddy with love. “You’re so fucking annoying. I hate you.”

“Yeah, I really love you too,” Geonhak says and surges forward, pulling Dongju into his arms and then he’s kissing him, kissing him, kissing him breathless. His lips are cold and Dongju’s are numb but his cheeks are warm and his eyes shine with a thousand lit stars.

This can only get better, so Dongju carefully steps onto Geonhak’s shoes with his muddy soles to gain the height he needs in order to kiss him back, and kiss him back, and kiss him back like this forever.

♥

_  
myeongie commented "Cute :') Of course, I saw it coming thirteen years ago" · 50m_

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_

♥

The lack of change in their general environment, this time, is even more aggressive than the last. Dongmyeong cheerfully whacks him on the back of his head, Seoho actually sheds a tear, and Hwanwoong makes three smartass comments about Geonhak’s terrible job at painting Dongju’s nails on behalf of Hyungu, but apart from two days of nonstop hooting and wolf-whistling, the campus accepts with benevolent ease that the new challenge is who between Dongju and Geonahk can be more disgustingly public with his affection for the other, which is quite basically a challenge against Hwanwoong and Youngjo, and _which_ Dongju has no interest in surpassing.

(So far Geonhak’s winning the whole PDA thing, but only because he's flashier and Dongju thinks holding hands is the most outwardly form of affection one can maintain. How is he supposed to compete with a loud ass fuckboy who lifts him over the shoulder unceremoniously as a form of greeting?)

“Now see,” Seoho says about a month into the whole thing, when January reports are in and they can all relax around takeout and a shitty movie. “I know that we all, including me, have this habit of blaming every little thing that goes wrong in this universe on me, that is, Lee Seoho. But you have to admit that I handled this one. I handled the shit out of this one, beginning to end.”

“You kind of did, actually,” Geonhak says, and Dongju shifts a little to look at him properly. “I mean, I wouldn't've nearly have died of cardiac failure if not for you, but that's a small cost, right?”

“Of course,” Seoho says proudly. “But also, you owe me for life now. I'm the devil now.”

“Shut up, Seoho.”

So what changes, again? Concretely, nothing. Dongju still hates and loves his degree in equal measures and his hair is going to fall off one day with how much he bleaches it, and mornings are always early, nights are always late. But— so does everything, that is to say, the little details that often slip between the cracks. Geonhak waits outside class with lunch and thermoses of soup, and Dongju pulls him into teeny tiny jewellery shops to buy tacky bracelets together. They dance at parties, which is nice.

It's nice. All of it. The perfect ending. A quality romantic comedy.

“No, but seriously,” Keonhee pipes up after fifteen minutes of relative peace (well, as peaceful as it can get with the TV blaring in the background combined with Lee Seoho’s hecklings). “You guys are _together_ now. You'll probably get _married._ Can someone _finally_ tell me about The Incident?”

A chilling silence falls over the room at that, and Geonhak’s grip around Dongju’s shoulders tightens involuntarily.

Dongju finds himself wondering too— after all this time, are they ready? To face The Incident. To acknowledge and accept what happened, and move on. To acknowledge that the fault doesn't lie on one single person's shoulders, but rather—

“So Geonhak broke into my apartment in first year,” Dongju says calmly, and Geonhak immediately lets out a volley of curses that would make grown men cry. “And get this, he—”

“I _hate_ you, Son Dongju,” Geonhak says. “Now, listen up, Keonhee, I'll tell you the tale of a _real_ romantic comedy. So this one time—”

♥♥♥

Most of the time when someone in Geonhak’s immediate vicinity is complaining about him having an extremely deep voice and that they can’t actually hear what they’re saying, his response is usually the same. It’s not his fault, technically. His voice just developed that way. The nest thing that follows the _having a deep voice_ complaint is that it makes him look like a ghost. Now, ghosts aren’t real. Geonhak never believed in the existence of ghosts or any such being.

That is, until he knocked on what he supposes was Seoho’s apartment door but instead came face to face with an actual ghost.

Now, this might be a good time to mention that Geonhak’s a little drunk. A little _too_ drunk, actually. Like his skin is gonna smell like vodka when he wakes up tomorrow, _if_ he wakes up tomorrow, considering there is a fucking ghost standing in front of his right now.

Actually, this is also a good time to mention that Geonhak may or may not have forced his entry into the apartment, but only because he thought it was Seoho’s. _That’s_ why he was confused as shit when the key didn’t work, and so he decided to just pick the lock instead. And like, the couch seemed way too nice to be Seoho’s but, as mentioned before Geonhak’s drunk. None of this was supposed to happen in the first place, most of all him coming face to face with a literal ghost.

So now they’re here, both of them screaming their literal arses off, and Geonhak is pretty sure he’s gonna die by the hands of ghost man.

“YOU’RE A GHOST,” he shrieks, accordingly.

The guy, ghost man, stops and stares for a moment, then picks up again. “WHO THE FUCK ARE _YOU?_ ”

Geonhak blinks at him, stares at his face while trying to piss his pants. He stumbles back and accidentally knocks off something, which leads to both of them screaming again and Geonhak sees ghost man moving towards him, but anyone can do anything the front door barges open again— an naturally they both holler again and jump a foot out of their respective skins— and this is definitely Seoho, round face, messy orange hair, half-asleep and looking quite pissed.

_“What the fuck are you two— JESUS H.CHRIST,” _he screams, when he notices ghost man, _“Hyungu, why the fuck are you wearing sheet mask at four in the morning?!”___

__“SEOHO,” Geonhak says, then pauses when he realises ghost man said it too. “Wait, that’s my _friend._ ”_ _

__“That’s my _neighbour,_ ” ghost man snaps back._ _

__“This is my _beauty sleep that you're interrupting,_ ” Seoho says, swiftly cutting their argument in half. “Geonhak, what are you doing in Dongju’s apartment.”_ _

__“I'm drunk,” Geonhak says, as if that explains everything, which it does. “I thought this was your place.”_ _

__Ghost man serial killer, or Dongju, snorts loudly. “Nice functioning you've got there, asshole.”_ _

__“Wow, fuck off,” Geonhak replies after spluttering for a pure thirty seconds. “And why have you applied a sheet mask _at this hour?_ ”_ _

__“I like taking care of my skin, thank you.”_ _

__“Come on, let’s go,” Seoho interrupts, sounds tired. “Sorry for the mess, Dongju.”_ _

____

♥

Now if this incident had just remained that, an incident, Geonhak would probably have found it in his heart to forgive Son Dongju the serial killer -slash- ghost man for being so scary, cruel, and affronted that someone harmlessly broke into his apartment, and for saying _nice functioning you've got there, _but clearly the Gods that be do not wish it, because just a few days later, when standing in line at the cafeteria at fucking _eight_ in the morning, Dongju catches Geonhak’s eye from across the room.__

__He looks much better now that they're both sober and awake. (Well, debatably.) Hair still pink, really cute little nose, bunch of jewellery, full on pastel twink. All of which would be adorable if Dongju wasn't staring at him without blinking, as if he's trying to bore a hole into Geonhak’s very existence._ _

__So Geonhak stares back, and tries to mask his nervous swallow._ _

__Then Dongju lunges forward and makes to clap, with a ‘boo’ expression, and Geonhak literally falls on his ass while trying to get away from him._ _

___That’s_ what cliches it, Geonhak’s undying hatred for Son Dongju and the latter’s unending contempt for him. The face that he feinted like that, like one would to scare a kid, and with that utterly _blank_ look on his face, as if he was _testing.__ _

__Yeah, that's what clinches it. Geonhak falls on his ass and luckily no one's there to understand the situation and laugh at him— no one but Dongju, that is. So he picks himself up and brushes his ass off, looking around quickly before stalking right up to serial killer ghost man annoying pastel-kid._ _

__“ _You,_ ” Geonhak says. “You just fucking wait and watch.”_ _

__“Oh, I will,” Dongju sneers in reply. “I can't _wait_ to see where this goes, fuckboy.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is finally finished oof, i hope yall liked this. this was my first ever proper fanfic for this fandom and the characterisation is kinda.. off-point but i hope you guys enjoyed this nonetheless love you and thanku for reading <3
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated ^^
> 
> [ twt ](https://twitter.com/rchiveweus)


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